The Future in the Past
by WritingxEqualsxHappiness
Summary: Booth and Brennan decide that what's best is to go back to how they were before. Oneshot.


**I know there are probably tons of stories about the whole falling into bed thing, but it's awesome that you chose mine to read!**

**Again, I've been trying to stay away from writing fanfiction to focus on school, but this is another one of those ideas I just couldn't pass up. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own writing.**

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><p><strong><span>The Future in the Past<span>**

Even after Vincent had gone, her only thought had been of Booth's mental wellbeing. She had to make sure that he knew it wasn't his fault. She rationalized it the best she knew how. It was not his fault.

She fought for her composure after that. She had to remain rational because there was still a job to be done. Catching Brodsky was the most important thing to focus on right now—everything else came second. That was the only thing keeping her emotions in check. The box she compartmentalized everything with had been dropped off a skyscraper. It was crushed and bursting at its seams and it was so hard to hold it together because there was just so much stuffed into it. She reminded herself of Brodsky and it made it just the slightest bit easier to hold off the explosion.

There was no thought involved when Booth told her where she would be spending the night. For her sanity and his, it was the best arrangement. At his apartment, she knew she would be sleeping on his couch. There was no other choice. She knew that the hunt for Brodsky was even more important now and the thought of Booth being harmed because he slept on a couch instead of a bed was absurd.

She focused on getting Booth to stop trying to help her make a bed out of his couch to keep the box together a little bit longer. His plight to make her feel comfortable made her feel like everything really was falling apart. A few years ago they would have been joking around, eating Chinese food or having drinks. It was different now.

She couldn't sleep that night. After she lay down on the couch, she let her mind do what it wanted to. She was too tired to hold that box in one piece anymore. It did not explode—everything leaked out of it over the course of the hours she lay awake staring at the ceiling.

She started off thinking about how her relationship with Booth was different. Ever since Hannah they hadn't been spending as much time together. Sure, they ate lunch most days at the diner and they had drinks at the Founding Fathers after they finished a case. They talked about irrelevant topics, though. She realized that they tried to distract themselves from anything to do with their relationship. They didn't delve into each other's lives further than what they would be doing over the weekend. Irrelevant conversations would allow them to just talk for the hell of it. They were both tired of being on the rollercoaster of life, so they stepped off it for a while.

Her thoughts travelled to Vincent Nigel Murray then, because he was the most present person on her mind. She closed her eyes and all she could see was the life leaving his. She relived those moments over and over again, heard him begging her not to make him leave because he loved being here so much. She rubbed her eyes fiercely but she couldn't stop the sequence and she found that she was crying. Soon she wasn't crying for just Vincent anymore. She cried for the bones in limbo, for the families of the victims. She cried for her mother, her brother's sick child. And she cried for herself and for Booth, for the child she almost had and the time she spent in the hospital thinking that Booth would be in a coma forever.

The tears she shed were silent, barely brushing the surface of the emotions she felt. And she felt like the world was metaphorically crashing down around her. She had allowed herself to acknowledge her emotions and now she was falling apart. She didn't want to keep living her life as she had been. She wanted to stop dancing around her feelings and do anything to know that she was moving in the right direction. She felt stuck at this point in her life and had no idea how to move forward.

She had a sudden and fierce longing to see Booth then, so she wiped her face and got up quickly. She knew that he was on the other side of that door and she needed to be near him, to hear his irrational explanation for everything that would inevitably make her feel so much better.

The sight of Booth pointing his gun at her when she opened the door almost made her start to cry again. She was overwhelmed by her feelings and the fact that Booth was practically sleeping with his gun in his hand scared her more than she would have ever liked to admit. She apologized for startling him but it felt like she was apologizing for being so emotional. She told him how Vincent had begged her not to make him leave and desperately looked for his explanation for the man's last words. She didn't understand why Booth always prayed to God if it didn't matter in the end. Everyone died and God couldn't change that.

It made her want to scream or punch something that Booth could just accept that Vincent had been murdered so quickly while she was still shaking over it. Instead, she asked Booth if she could stay with him and she let him take her into his arms. She allowed herself to cry and be comforted by the man she loved.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore, Booth," she told him.

"It'll pass, Bones. It'll get better."

"No, I don't want to feel lost in my life anymore." She held herself up with her arm and looked him straight in the eye because he needed to understand. "I know that I am the one who pushed you away. I know that I hurt you by doing that, but I was afraid, Booth, I was afraid of letting my emotions take over. I thought I wouldn't be able to get control again if I let myself lose it for a while. And then we came back to help Caroline and after the time away I had decided that I would let my control slip because it was worth it. I was ready to share my life with you and then you showed up with Hannah and I couldn't do anything."

She wanted to leave the room and stop herself from saying anything else. She had gone to Booth for comfort, she had gotten it, and she wanted to leave now. But she couldn't leave because she had started this conversation and she intended to finish it.

"What was I supposed to do, Bones, sit around and wait for you to decide to get over being afraid? I couldn't just let my life slip by not knowing how long you would take to do that."

"I never could understand why you chose Hannah. She wasn't anything you needed."

"How could you know what I needed, Bones? You don't know what it's like to be in a war zone and not know if you're going to make it out alive. I needed someone who could remind me that the world isn't so bad and there's still stuff to live for. I saw something in her, something lively and headstrong and she just plunged right into everything and that's what I needed."

"What about when you came back? You have plenty to live for here, you didn't need her."

"And that's where you're wrong." He sat up and moved to the other side of the bed from her. "I did need Hannah. Because, as far as I knew, you were still thinking and I couldn't stop my life for you. I needed something to make me forget and Hannah did that for me. She made me forget how damn much it _hurt_ to imagine everything we could have if you just took a leap and at the same time know that you didn't think you were ready to take that step. Every time I saw her, Bones, you were always in the back of my mind. I never stopped thinking about what we could have. Never."

They both let his words settle for a while. She looked away from him, almost embarrassed that she had witnessed his feelings in that way. Her stomach was twisting with anxiety. She was terrified that she'd ruined everything.

"It's not your fault, Bones," Booth whispered. "You didn't know."

She reigned in her tears for a just a few seconds and looked at him.

"Am I still too late?" She didn't finish her question without starting to sob. Booth did not hesitate to pull her close again. Her inner turmoil was ripping him apart with guilt.

"I don't want you to make this decision right now," he told her gently. "We're all just starting to deal with Vincent dying. Neither of us is in the right frame of mind to decide anything now."

Rationally, she knew he was right. She tried to analyze the effects of a death on a person's body, but she found that she was too tired. She let herself cry until she couldn't anymore and focused on the sensation of Booth's body so close to hers.

She cleared her throat and felt Booth jump—he had fallen asleep at some point. "Can we agree on one thing, though?" she asked quietly. She heard his grunt of approval deep in his chest. "Can we go back to how we used to be, before I asked you to donate your sperm? I like how we were then. But after you kill Brodsky."

"I think I can agree to that. After Brodsky." There were a few seconds of quiet. "You know why I had that brain tumor, right?"

"It was caused by a cell mutation." But she didn't think that was the answer he was looking for.

"No, it's because you were never supposed to have my sperm donated. The universe wanted us to do it the old fashioned way." She could hear the cocky grin in his voice and it made her feel marginally better. This was exactly what they were supposed to be like.

"By having sex? I don't think the universe knows how things are supposed to be done, Booth."

"The universe knows all, Bones. Why are we here right now? Because the universe says that this is how it's supposed to happen."

"Vincent is supposed to be dead?"

"I never said the universe wasn't stupid."

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><p><strong>I'm not sure I liked it so much, but let me know what you thought in a review!<strong>


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